Thursday, February 20, 2014

What can you do when your main band, the project to which you are attached, have a record deal with, tour with, and lead a legion of fans with, is put on hold? It would be a crime for the members of Draconian to sit around, playing Facebook games and reading up on their British literature while new vocalist Heike Langhans arranges her affairs, and relocates to Sweden from her home in South Africa. It has been a long and arduous process, one that has taken far longer than any band could anticipate. But in the meantime, there are other things to do, including a handful of side projects that have arisen. Guitarist Daniel Arvidsson has taken the giant leap away from the Draconian sound on his project, the aptly titled Mammoth Storm, a sludgy stoner metal band which features Arvidsson himself on bass and vocalist. With one demo released, and nothing but time to kill, the three piece from Sweden has prepped and released their newest disc, the two track EP titled "Rite Of Ascension," a murky, distorted collection of riffs, screams, and beats unlike anything his bandmates would have expected.

For fans of Draconian, it is important to note at the onset that this isn't that band; in fact, it isn't even in the same ballpark. The heavy, droning riffs of the title track are down tempo and groove laden, bolstered by a booming drum kit that, while restrained, is not short on powerful blasts. Arvidsson's voice fits the bill to a T, imperfect in tone, but perfect in his handling of the backing instrumental. The slow stomp of guitar, bass, and drum can wear you down, but when the insertion of a melodic riff comes along, it adds a different dimension to the track. But don't be misled; this is an oily, black tar coated piece of work that is rooted more in it's weight than its versatility. The second half of the EP, the nearly thirteen minute Obscure Horizon has a haunting, horror soundtrack vibe to the early movements, transporting you to a dungeon from which you are unlikely to escape. The rattling distortion is enough to loosen the snow on your roof and free the icicles from their perch. But in between dense chugging and reverberating passages, there is a vast void where little else is happening. Vocals, small tempo shifts, and barely detectable tone changes are left to pad out a full seven minutes here.

Branching out of your comfort zone is always encouraged; some of the best bands you will find today began as side projects. Arvidsson has certainly done that here, leaving the sound and strength of Draconian for another day, while harnessing something else entirely for this project. Mammoth Storm isn't the opposite end of the spectrum (What would that be, exactly? Yanni?) but it is a great departure from the driving riffs and dual vocals of one of the most popular death/doom titans on the planet. But for a stoner doom record, "Rite Of Ascension" succeeds in a number of ways. It manages to make the most of a small sample size, giving you a pretty good idea of what a full length album would amount to. If there is anything to be shaky on here it remains the intimidatingly long track lengths, as the entire duration is spent playing off of one main riff and drum beat. This may not be a detriment to the enjoyment of this album or any other, but it something that must be considered when dealing with the evolution and growth of this band. Two tracks, topping nearly twenty five can't be the pattern to follow from here.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Bands come and go. Then they come again, and leave again. It is, sometimes, a neverending cycle of recognition and fading into obscurity. When Junius released "Reports from the Threshold of Death" in 2011, they were suddenly thrust into the consciousness of a large group of people for whom this was a new experience. A tour with Alcest followed, exposing crowds to an emotionally strong set, night after night. And then, just as quickly, they drifted off the radar for many fans and listeners; not all, but many. Three years later, the gentle beast has awoken, throwing open the doors to the studio and sharing with the world an EP that, while short on time, is not short on quality, care, and dedication. Because where Junius separates themselves from even some of the most well known and well respected bands is in their creative flow. There is no room for filler anywhere on their releases, going as far back as their debut album. And with "Days Of The Fallen Sun," they give your four pieces of heavy music, four carefully arranged shorts, and one looming piece of rock mastery.

Call them what you will; whether tracks like (meditations) are intros, interludes, set up tracks, or whatever, they can't be mindless, and they can't be throwaways. This one is short and minimal in impact initially, but it's when The Time of Perfect Virtue starts that it all makes sense. Unlike that latest album we spoke of so highly, there is a true clarity in production here. By no means are the hazy aspects gone, but they are under control, with the distinct cry of vocalist Joseph E. Martinez connecting all of the dots. It's soothing, yet at the same time stirring. By the four minute mark, this is a band at their peak, drums booming, riffs rocking through and all in a perfect sync. With (shamantic rituals) bridging the gap between worlds, it is once again an addition rather than an interlude at odds with what they're doing. The proof is in the proverbial pudding, as the flow from track to track is without issue. Even A Day Dark With Night, a poetic opus that marches well beyond the seven minute mark, is given ample time to bleed beyond its borders. Whether you identify Junius' strength as being the soft, brooding moments or the heavy handed jams, you will find something to hang your hat on here. There is a give and take between Martinez's vocals, and his addition of synthesizers to the mix, both of which seem to mirror one another in their arching, bending delivery.

It would be easy to characterize (the purge) as a calm before the storm sort of moment, but that would be far too dismissive. Because while Battle In The Sky is the shortest full track on the album, it delivers on many levels. It rolls through your speakers with an ease and grace usually not attached to a track that also boasts a gritty vocal line. It can be two things at once; it can be both the heaviest track on the EP and the most sonically deep. Drummer Dana Filloon is used to filling smaller venues with his chorus of snares and kicks, but on this record, he could just as easily flood a stadium, catching us all up in the tide. His percussive assertions do more than keep time or accent the leads; they are a lead in and of themselves. When the final bridge track comes and goes, as (nothingness) does so quickly, it isn't hard to look back and appreciate their contribution to the disc at large. But by the time you've come to that conclusion, Forgiving The Cleansing Meteor has already infected your brain. Aside from boasting a vocal hook that is easily repeated, and chanted for that matter, it sees Junius at their unpolished best. While bassist Joel Munguia plucks his way to glory, guitarist Michael Repasch-Nieves creates a stunning atmospheric quality that lifts the entire track to a different plane.

Not every band can make things work the way Junius has over their career. Anyone who has had the pleasure of seeing them perform live, warming a cold venue in the inter, will attest to the amount of raw energy and emotion that pours from the stage. But to capture that and put it in the hands of the listener, album after album, is something indescribably unique, and infinitely more rare. After each addition to their catalog, it became harder to believe they could keep this alive. They would have to burn out, dim, or just hit a wall. But if this EP is any indication, the opposite must be true. They are burning brighter than ever, all four members giving a performance that is worthy of more than your money. They flirt with perfection at every turn, and though it may be wholly unattainable, they are far closer than most bands will ever tread. It's the music, yes. But it is also the thought process from which the music, the lyrics, and layout arise that makes "Days Of The Fallen Sun" special. And when the album makes its rounds, from fan to fan, and new listener to new listener, we might all agree on that.

Monday, February 17, 2014

With each release, Italy's Maelstrom have carved out a larger place in our consciousness. Ferdinando Valsecchi, much like his peers in the other one man bands that we have covered, isn't just another artist in a studio, playing music to get noticed, get rich, or grace the cover of a magazine. He believes in what he plays, and he believes in the work he has put out. If anything, he is harder n himself that his critics, who are few and far between. But still, he pushes on, working harder, smarter, and longer to continue writing and recording his unique take on melodic post rock and post metal. We all know that, in 2014, being an independent musician, or even a major label backed one, isn't as lucrative as it once was, leaving many to do their musical work as a side job to the one that pays the bills. And just the same Valsecchi has managed to find the time and funds necessary to release his third disc, titled "3725." With a lyrical hand from Matteo Simonelli, he gives your heart license to float away like the balloon that graces the cover, all the while keeping you from going too high, too fast.

While it remains hard to judge anything on the strength of a cover track, Valsecchi takes to "Space Oddity" like a duck to water, executing all of the signature moments that Bowie had written in a delicate and appropriate manner, even tackling the vocals better than most, besides the great William Shatner. His strength, though, lies in his musicianship, something he shows early and often on Hymn to Life, Ode to Death, a winding display of clean guitar riffs, crisp programming on drums, and a set of strings that floats above the rest. His ability to not only carve out layers, but to subsequently reassemble them is dumbfounding. The vocals, isolated to the heavier moments on the track, come spoken over waves of guitars. This doesn't lessen their impact, though, if anything making them resonate much further. You can apply that same principle to Paradise Lost, though there is a clear star to be found there. The string and piano work is well beyond expectation, a beautiful addition to an already mood setting offering. With each reset of the timer, each track can go in any multitude of directions, relying entirely on Valsecchi to steer the course.

The Choice may begin as a light hearted piece, but the reliance on distortion int he leads adds a stark contrast between parts of the whole. You aren't going to find a blistering solo or dense chugging action, but there is a power to his playing that shines through in every chord. The lyrics, written by Simonelli, can move you without a word of Italian in your repertoire. Even a simple, and often ineffective Google translation gives you a taste into the mind of both men, As High As The Kite Can Fly speaking of the fears that cloud our lives, even when all is brightest. Even the seemingly easy to read Memory's Drops goes deeper than the surface would indicate, including some of the most delicate and detailed instrumental work on the album around the midway point. It is tracks like this that Valescchi can let things grow around him, rather than being held to a rigid structure or plan. It is also a tale of two vocal deliveries, with his spoken word and clean singing combining to handle the bulk of the load here. While the former is more successful as a whole, there is a merit tot he clean melodies that he delivers. And while Long Lasting Friends fades, you are left hanging on one sentence amidst a sea of drums, guitars, synths, and horns; "Laughing has never been easier."

It has been a rare pleasure to be allowed in on the ground floor of a career, and see an artist grow with each and every release. Maelstrom is a project that, in name, has begun to represent so much of the dedication and struggle that goes into making a one man band truly work. With each piece at his fingertips, "3725" is yet another piece of him on display. In the way the tracks rise and fall, Valsecchi reminds us of what we often forget; music is an art form, and this is all an expression of the artist. We can criticize, lambast, or spill a series of words to describe our opinion of what any artist does, but the relationship they have with the music is what will matter decades down the line. And whether you take the music, the lyrics that he has been given, the artwork, or even the most basic breakdown of the processes that go into making a release of this caliber work, you can see that this is a man who is one with his music and his message. And when the musicians you listen to care as much about their art as their fans do, you have something you won't soon forget.

Friday, February 14, 2014

Guilty. We're guilty of it just as much as any other party. Genre tagging, as we have ranted and raved about numerous times before, is a cancer on the music world. It's one part opinion and one part bullshit; words used to essentially group bands together by the slimmest of criteria. As a result, bands good and bad fall under the same umbrella, which is a disservice to the former, and an undue boost to the latter. It lets the genres get diluted by bands who have no place being there. When we were first introduced to drone metal some years ago, many of the bands we experimented with had a lot in common. Minimalist approach to music, with few notes per minute. Long tracks, often beginning and ending at the same point with little in between. It seemed boring, if not hard to understand. Unfortunately, those experiences sullied us to new ones, often panning albums marked with the scarlet letter of drone. But in 2014, we realized it was time to put that aside and open those doors again. Queen Elephantine, a band split between New York, Providence and Hong Kong, turned the knob. And for the foreseeable future, "Scarab" left the door wide open.

If "Veil" became the new poster child for the drone movement, it would see popularity skyrocket as a result. It brings something to the table that was sorely lacking, and that is a sense of style. Whether it is in the light tapping of drums or the echoing distortion, or the wailing cry of the vocals, something stands out to almost every set of ears without wearing thin on the listener's sense of forward progress. It takes a minimalist approach to doom that, somehow, resonates. Even as the counter resets and "Crone" starts, it feels like parts of the same whole. Yes, there is a main body to the track; but there is also a collection of smaller pieces dwelling just below the surface. In the left channel a light repeated plucking of strings. In the right channel, a similar sound, but distant and clearer. It is an eerie calm, only made moreso by the brief vocal passage. As a building voice breathes the line, "It builds up," a head to toe shiver is all you can feel. What follows is an exercise in dark psychedelia, hazy and cloudy as it may be, that may be the reason for, or ending to, an herbal remedy. Intoxicated or not, the alternating moments of chaos and calm are sure to bring about some sort of internal awakening.

Much like its namesake, "Snake" slithers back and forth. The low roar of bass and guitar form the backdrop of the high cry of a guitar. It isn't exactly black on white in contrast, but it does boast a depth of sound that seems almost impossible for a track that bares any resemblance to drone metal. But it is also on this song, more than the others, that the vocals stake a claim to being a major player in the grand scheme. Psychedelic, yes, but always akin to that of the blues in both their sway and emotional touch. Not to be lost, mind you, is the detailed pieces of melodic guitar that buzz and hum through the frame, backed by a sea of howling reverb. The last track, though not the longest, has, arguably, the longest lasting appeal. Beginning with a building vocal chant over scant noise and pops, it takes the album to a more pronounced place, even if things haven't erupted into a full on thrash. With each pluck of a guitar or bass string, another layer is added to the resonating sound, a cloud of ambient noise that is just enough to be heard, without overwhelming the lead. It is more than noise, though; that hum is layer after layer of notes played together and compacted.

It's hard to separate labels that we, as fans or critics, give to music with those the band give to themselves. If everything called drone or experiemental sounded the same, genre tagging might helpful in attracting or repelling listeners. But with Queen Elephantine, the tag of drone doesn't quite do their process justice. This is minimalist in the same way that many drone bands operate; one note, ringing for minutes at a time, no progression for sound or direction. There are melodies here, grooves and loops to be found. More importantly, you get more pounds per square inch, a crushing piece of haunting background music that could either be a release or give you nightmares. It stirs a color spectrum, like those than Windows Media Player uses; a color visualization within your mind that is only reinforced by the highs and lows of the album at large. Somewhere along the way, no one ever told these musicians that drone music was supped to be one dimensional or boring. "Scarab" is not of the above. And we can all be happy for that.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

We've all heard the generic radio anthem of the minute. Doesn't matter if your poison is Nickelback, Daughtry, or any other clones of a classic grunge band that have bastardized rock music for all ages. They all share things in common: arena rock riffs, basic guitar progressions, and a penchant for easily digestible, easily regurgitated lyrics that everyone can sing along to, but no one will ever respect. That attitude isn't isolated to the American rock scene. It has gone global. Aeverium is a band in their infant stages, but they have a hard lesson to learn. Their blend of melodic hard rock and gothic undertones isn't a far cry from some of the biggest bands in the world. There are moments when you could close your eyes and hear Evanescence or Within Temptation blaring through your speakers. But for every heavy riff, blasting drum beat, or soaring vocal melody, there is an iron weight bringing it down. At days end, "The Harvest" is big on music, but all too light on substance.

There aren't a whole lot of bells and whistles to dig for on "Do You Remember," which stands as a fairly strong opener. It says a great deal about the band's style, that of a melodic metal band, focusing on strong riffs to build upon. The light keyboard touches do add depth to the mix, but more in the electronic sense. Vocally, you have your choice of three distinct efforts; a beautiful female voice, provided by Aeva Maurelle, and the contrasting male vocals, both cleaned and grunted, by Marcel Römer. Their dynamic together is fairly strong, as on "Rest In Peace," despite a lyrical theme that is less than groundbreaking. Where the band both succeeds and fails is their straddling of the mainstream radio line; they could be accepted by picky melodic metal fans, or condemned as disposal radio meta (a contradiction we in the US have grown to accept). For their part, they are good at what they do, from structuring to delivery. But as time passes, it is harder to swallow the lyrics, which seem to be recycled from band catalogs from yesteryear. It exhausts the contrast between Maurelle and Romer, especially in the last two tracks. But where "Heaven's Burning (Harvest Time)" and "The Ground Beneath Your Feet" stumble in lyrical quality, they regain ground with sheer strength of will. It isn't an ideal mix, but it works here as it has for many before.

Perhaps it is because, in the year 2014, lyrics just don't matter anymore, in metal or otherwise. Bands throw lyrical quality out the window in favor of making the words fit. Dangerous. Aeverium can craft a riff, can build a vocal harmony, and can give you a splash from time to time. But for a band to really seal their fans, they have to do more than that. You have to give your fans something to hold up and say "this is what I need," and that is what they lack at this early. Their songs, for better and worse, are disposable for anyone looking for deeper meaning in the words themselves. By no means are we saying they have to be politcally charged, religiously affiliated, or outright disgusting. But something more than a rhyming combination of words and phrases seems to be the bare minimum to show your creative side. The band is young, and they have a long time to grow and hone their craft. But with their next album, they can't repeat the mistakes of "The Harvest." They are going to have to replant the seeds and start again.

Monday, February 10, 2014

It was a few short months ago that an album teaser made the rounds, floating here and there, and everywhere on the world wide web. Astral Domine, the band behind the music, was a name unfamiliar to not only our group of worthy constituents, but to many of the worlds most discerning power metal fans. WWhat the trailer contained, though would peak the interest of you and I, and everyone in between. Formed in 2011 by guitarist Luca Gagnoni, hoping to spread a peaceful message through his music, Astral Domine is a handpicked powerhouse that has something special to behold: trust. With the addition of each member, Gagnoni put his trust in their abilities, and their strength to help him complete his vision. With a mix of power and symphonic model unlike the stale, moldy efforts that have flooded record stores over the last few years (minus a few shining stars, of course), this Italian dynamo aren't here for a one off; "Arcanum Gloriae" is the first in what we hope is a long line of inspired albums. With artwork inspired by the critically acclaimed series "Game Of Thrones," Gagnoni and company embody everything there is to like about metal, without the dirt and dust of decades of recycling.

Rarely will you find an opening track as moving as "Arcanum Gloriae," in both story and delivery. The sweet female vocal tones are awe inspiring, with their male counterparts equally as impressive. It sets the scene as if it is the next in a fantasy blockbuster series, not far from Tolkien's grasp. The true beauty of this intro, however, isn't felt until "Holy Knights" begins. As a clean guitar melody welcomes the full array of instruments, the scope of what the band is trying to accomplish comes into full view; it extends beyond fantasy metal, and beyond power metal. The tremble in vocalist Marco Scorletti's voice makes for an added dose of emotion, all the while captivating in his delivery. But the key becomes not only how expressive he is, but how expressive the guitar leads are flanking him. Gagnoni elicits a powerful response through his playing, both powerful and peaceful at once. With influences ranging from traditional heavy metal to baroque, it stands to reason that the music itself would become a funhouse mirror for all things, bending their images into something similar, but all together unique. It's "King Of North" that does this most efficiently, bringing historical time periods together seamlessly. It is equally empowering and operatic, with sweeping solos to round out the mix, not only from Gagnoni, but his counterpart on keyboards, Yeshan Gunawardana. The choir of voices that joins in the final minute turns an outstanding track into a phenomenal one.

When the upbeat, galloping tempo is removed, as it is on much of "Moonlight," the band still finds a comfort level of impressive levels. Driving riffs are replaced with smooth bass lines and the tickling of keys. Scorletti's voice takes on a low, rich timbre, fitting of the overall tone of the track. What stands out is the ability to embody a romantic track, without giving away some of the technical skill in favor of it. What Astral Domine does exceeding well, through their sound and substance, is tell a story without letting the story dominate all. Any imbalance would make "Tales Of The Elves And Pain" feel skewed or stilted. But instead, it rings clearly, minus a few oddly timed spoken passages. Gagnoni exerts a great deal of control over the room here, even in his restraint. It is the ability to rise and fall with the mood that allows the music to grow and evolve over the course of an album, and makes the follow up track, "Where Heroes Die," all the more impactful. Power metal stalwart Fabio Leone lends his voice to the nearly ten minute epic, an exercise in the pure and unadulterated craft of symphonic power metal. It is nearly flawless in design, and absolutely unassailable in depth. To say the guitar and symphony are breathtaking in their partnership would be a gross understatement.

Though Gunawardana has been heard throughout the album, "I Am The King" sees his skills taken to new heights, fluttering keyboards movements bolstering an already dense wave of strings and distortion. Add to that a sea of voices that poke through the mix in a full bodied choir, and once again, they ahve shattered the mold to provide something exhilarating. Just as easily, they slip into another downtempo, somber movement, with "My Lord." Despite not being an aggressive, attacking song, it has the ability to carve out a niche both on the album and in your listening tendencies. Its self awareness is key, allowing a light piano and whisper to conclude a moving piece. Its counterpart, however, couldn't be farther away on the album's arch. A show of power and grit emerges, a raspy, growled voice delivering commands to newly acquired slaves. It is a curveball in an album that has been predominantly peaceful in scope, but a welcomed one. It is a curve, not a 180 degree flip, and the added dose of speed and energy brings out even more to like in this lineup. And at only four minutes in length, it is a sprint, rather than a marathon. The finale, which contains the second vocal feature on the album, is triumph in song. With a contribution from Giuseppe Cialone of the lesser known Rosae Crucis, this is yet another symphonic masterpiece in an album full of them. If you can make it through the track in full without once swaying or nodding, you are too far gone.

We've made no secret of the dull, murky coat that has befallen symphonic metal; perhaps we overreact to certain acts, or have just outgrown most of them. But when a band comes along that can reignite that fire, even the most cynical of fans must take note. Astral Domine have done more than just provide kindling for a new flame; they have brought the wood, the fuel, and the flame, all in one album. It's symphonic metal like you've heard it before, but done in such a clean, crisp way that it sounds entirely new. Luca Gagnoni has done an incredible job assembling his group and building this project into everything he was hoping for. For all of the high points, "Arcanum Gloriae" sees its most impressive victory come in the total package. For as good as each track is individually - and they are all incredibly good - the way everything flows together, playing one track off of the next, is remarkable. For an album that seems daunting in terms of length, it is over in the blink of an eye. The next album might be the jewel in the crown of symphonic metal.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

There's a tank gracing the cover of the latest EP from long lived Belarus based Gods Tower. You can see that with your own eyes. But don't make a judgment just yet; save that for after the music has played. Because our minds play tricks on us, and we think we know far more than we do about a band r an album by the picture that represents it. It isn't always worth a thousand words. But "Roll Out," with which you secure yourself a code for the online "World Of Tanks" game, isn't a thrashing praise of war in all its forms. Sure, there is a call to battle to contend with, as would be expected in such a partnership. But what lies just below the surface, or perhaps one track below it, is a surprise that makes the album seem that much more forward thinking than one would have imagined. Behind the bullets, bombs, and explosions, there are consequences. Embrace the tank on track one; ignore the tank on track two.

With razor sharp edges, "Roll Out" cut through the silence and straight to your brain stem with a thundering clap of drums. The winding lead melody is incredibly detailed and catchy, causing an immediate investment in the track itself. It's hard to pigeonhole the sound that pours through your speakers here, a mix between thrash, folk, death, and shredding riffs. But it is seamless in its delivery, a rarity for a band of this ilk. Vocally, it is a different story. While the instrumental is intricately crafted, the lyrics remain on the basic end of the spectrum, painting the song more as an anthem than anything else. Not entirely a bad thing, admittedly, because it drills a hole into your frontal lobe and embeds itself there for weeks. In a sharp and striking contrast, "The Field Of The Dead" trades in all of the momentum and energy, in favor of something emotionally stirring. With very little backing, aside from a low, quiet rumble and light symphonic touches, this is the reality to the opening tracks theme. Where the war begins, pain and death end; a well thought out pairing of thunder and clouds.

It's a very small sample size to evaluate, but what Gods Tower have given us is something you can enjoy in one instance, and ponder in another. Two tracks, tied together under the same album title, but they would struggle to be more different from one another. And in this day and age of mediocre albums and EPs, it's refreshing to see a band buck the trend and do something outside the box, structurally, rather than spoon feed the listeners with safety. In an odd way, we can relate the thematic choices of the album to life itself, particularly life in American in 2014. First, we roll out the tanks into combat, then we mourn the loss of life that occurred from our choices. Whether or not that was the intention is irrelevant; our personal connection to the music is what gives it life beyond a file on our PC. It is so surreal to have a band, half a world away, put to music what you had in mind. And with that, "Roll Out" says a lot more than the artwork can do.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

There are times when an entire genre of music starts to sound all too familiar. Symphonic metal, unfortunately, hasn't seen a burst of growth in some time, leaving new bands to rely on the same old tenets to try to make a name for themselves. The result? An overcrowded, stagnant pool of bands, all vying for the same time in the spotlight. Rather than innovate, they stay safe, true to the music that has been churned out, en masse, over the last decade. Feridea have stuck to the same formula, founded by keyboard virtuoso Henrik Airaksinen two years ago. Female lead, male backing vocal, instrumental centered around fluttering orchestral melodies and symphonic touches. Done with grace and precision, it can still be a life affirming experience. But too often, as we see here, it doesn't make an impact that allows it replay value. Their new EP, the four track "Reborn In Time" has the look and feel of a symphonic metal breath of fresh air, but ends up smelling stale and familiar.

With the opening track, the band sets a tone that would be hard to shake. A four minute, sweeping symphonic overture, "Wanderer" stays in the safe spot, yet doesn't skimp on beauty and majesty. It's orchestral roots and influences are clear, a refreshing opening to what sets itself up to be a rich work of symphony. The title track, "Reborn In Time," builds off of that sense of might and magic, beginning softly before introducing heavy drums beats to the mix. Keyboardist Henrik Airaksinen sets the stage so deftly that it feels as though you have slipped into the orchestra pit. There is a conflicting set of tones int he vocal area, though, with female lead Heidi Mankinen used for mood and the airy beauty of her voice. But backing vocalist and guitarist Aleksander Viitanen seems to take the lead storytelling role, his raspy voice not quite matching the instrumental behind him. It highlights what becomes the central issue with the album, that being a mix and production that feels flat, despite inspired lyrics and execution. Quiet moments, like those around the halfway mark, and purely symphonic ones ring clearly through the mix, while the addition of guitars and drums seems too much for it, sounding muffled and unbalanced.

This isn't to say that it is a constant issue, but merely a recurring one. As you move into "With Fire And Frost," Mankinen seems to find her footing atop the instrumental, which in turn finds a balance beneath her. It isn't a perfect match, but a step in the right direction. It is only Airaksinen that fills his role to exceptional levels, his fusion of woodwinds, flutes and strings always floating through the air with the delicate precision it requires. But without a strong surrounding cast, it lacks a true uniqueness or power. In saving the best for last, "Of Magic And Music" sees the band take a turn for the better, in both sound and direction. There are missteps here, as well, with Viitanen's voice clashing with the instrumental at times. He does, however, let his guitar work shine through for the first real time on the album. A glimpse into the true strength of the band comes just shy of the seven minute mark, where, for the first time, they find true even ground between all of the instruments at once. Guitar, bass, drums, and symphony all share a space that not only holds them all, but allows them to lift each other, rather than jockey for position.

The sad truth about much of the symphonic metal that comes out now is that you have a good idea of what you're going to get; the formula itself has gotten somewhat stale. By no means is this the death of the genre, but it is need of something to restart the fires that once burned so brightly. Feridea aren't doing anything wrong, musically, but they are relying too heavily on elements that have been used and reused to the point of exhaustion. And when you try to measure up to the groups that helped to push the genre to where it is today, you set yourself for a fall. The male/female dynamic doesn't work as well as it could, again partly due to the lofty expectations created by Nightwish or Epica, and the production takes much of the energy out o the music. The bright spots are there, but there are few and far between. It would be impossible to say that "Reborn In Time" is a complete throwaway, but it lacks staying power in a crowded and suffocating market of female fronted symphonic metal bands.

Monday, February 3, 2014

What's in a name? Part rhetorical question, part honest inquiry. if you were to look through decades of heavy metal band names, there would surely be a large quantity that were one dimensional, and able to be taken at face value. Bands can pick a name that describes their goal, their sound, or even their heroes. Dying Fetus brings up imagery that fits their style. Rhapsody Of Fire implies symphonic elements. But then you have those that seem deeper than surface value. Opeth. Katatonia. So, which category, then, do you put a band who chooses a name that could be appreciated or maligned at any moment? Random, a three piece from Argentina, seem to have chosen a moniker that could be left open for a different kind of interpretation; an argument that you could never win, or, conversely, never lose. They play a style of music that screams avant garde or extreme, yet play it in a way that makes it seem easy to understand. Either way, listening to their latest album, an hour long journey titled "Pidanoma," is like an experiment in word play, timing, and a mind trip all at once.

There is something to be said about an album that grabs you from the very onset, something that "Pidanoma" does with little effort or time. The bass lead on to "Corto Normal" is as catchy as a hook, but as technically sound as a lead. The dizzying array of drum beats and cymbal crashes is fodder for any of a million styles of headbanging or hair swinging, pulling you further into their web of complex structures. Groove laden but beautifully heavy, it rests on guitarist and vocalist Raul Garcìa Posee to round out what would be the perfect six minute package. Not only do his vocals do that justly, but they fall into the category of being perfectly imperfect; cleanly delivered with a healthy dose of raspy energy. And while the intentionally cloudy and muffled "Ojota y Media" may be just a two minute interlude, it has a life of its own, living and breathing with a series of kick drums that cut through it all.

This is the music you fight; the music you try to resist but simply can't. Tracks like "Mee Chango" give you every reason to let go and allow yourself to fall into the center of the mix. It's the combination of the timely execution of basics, combined with the eclectic variations that works so well. Posee wails and howls over the top, but his voice is one with the mix below it. So, too, is the scant saxophone work of Adrian Terrazas Gonzalez, of The Mars Volta, that creates a sense of chaos at times, while providing calm at others. It's the ebb and flow here that dictates so much, rising and falling with each movement. All the while drummer Marckos Crosa tirelessly hammers down beats in minimalist and extreme proportions, sometimes delivering simple clicks before exploding into a an epic roll or fill. His work adds to the mystique of the track, one that brings to mind the freshness and avant garde history of free form jazz. There may be a point A and point B, but this is clearly not the straight line approach between the two, detouring into sweeping guitar melodies and aggressively plucked and slapped bass lines. It's like the trajectory of Naval ship crossing the Atlantic, looping back around in a pattern that may seem bizarre to those watching from afar.

What you have learned to this point, however cliche it might be, is to expect the unexpected; a fitting thought for a band with the name Random. But there is proof in the musical pudding that this music is anything but, and "Mia Gato Está Solo en la Oscuridad," translation aside, is exactly that.What seems like nonsense is actually a carefully constructed piece of art that resonates like the ringing distortion it uses. One passage is an airy melody, a guitar crying in the most moving way, and in the next you are peppered with a series of kicks and cymbals. Again, this can't be a mistake or coincidence that all of these oddly shaped pieces fit together in just such a way; this is meticulously planned, orchestrated and calculated effort on the part of three musicians with an endless stream of talent and vision. Around the eight and half minute mark, three divergent pieces of music come together. Separately, they would sound like noise, unfit for harmony. Yet together, as chaotic as it may seem, they work. Bassist Pablo Lamela Bianchi is a frontman in his own right, his bass work as dynamic as any lead guitar or vocal could be. The final six minutes here are mind boggling, yet breathtaking.

How is it that an album with no clear path can come full circle? It would be difficult to find a more fitting end to this musical journey than the diabolically long and yet not nearly long enough "Guri Guri Tres Piñas." Standing at a robust twenty minutes, it is the best example of contrast and progression that comes to mind. Building from a whispering melody, one that is so softly played, into a sea of crashing cymbals and rising vocals, it arches in the same way that the album does; up and down, side to side. Admittedly, this is not the something for everyone scenario that most bands strive for; you have to be willing to let go of your preconceived notions to fully immerse yourself in this. if you are stuck in the verse, bridge, chorus, verse, bridge, lead, bridge, verse, outro structuring, then you might want to sit this one out. But if you've ever wanted to see evolution take place right before your eyes and ears, there is no better place to start than right here.

So, then, we must reiterate the premise here. What's in a name? For Random, it seems to say so much, and yet nothing at all. Because what it describes is music without borders, without boundaries, that can come and g as it pleases without fear of failure. But what it also says is that there is no structure, or a lack of direction, something that clearly couldn't be farther from the truth. Somehow, these three men embody both sides of that coin so flawlessly that to debate either side would put you in the right. If you were to tell me that all three members recorded separate instrumentals, unknown to one another, and layered them together for the finishes product, only hoping it would mesh, I might be inclined to believe you. But if you told that they sat for months, figuring out new mathematics to make these time signatures work together and play nicely, only to record and rerecord until every note fit snugly next to the others, I would believe that too. Either way, random have proven to be a a force, redefining even the basis of their own name. And "Pidanoma" is an avant testament to it.